


Orbit

by Neuvieme



Series: Addendum [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Au Ra Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Multi-Romance, Past Abuse, Post-Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Post-Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2020-07-08 00:27:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19860526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neuvieme/pseuds/Neuvieme
Summary: Shining so bright like a star, they found themselves already in her orbit and bathe in her light. Three POVs, three sections each.Hien, on the implications of what it means to lose your protector and to fail to protect the one you love.Aymeric, in which he must choose between duty to his nation and duty to his heart.Ardbert, where he finds his purpose and makes peace with it.





	1. Hien I – Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Hien I – Dawn  
> The nightmare does not go away even with the sun's brilliance.

Everything sounded like it was warped; melting into a bubble, covering his ears thickly with the distortion of sound. The once-esteemed prince of Doma was reduced to a bloodied mess on the soot-stained ground: defeated in battle, and left for dead by the attacking forces. His compatriots were either dead or gone; if they were lucky to be alive, they would’ve fled this unholy scene of carnage only to rush into a merciful death by some unknown means.

His fingers felt numb. But still, he tried to seize the grip of his sword; to try to stand up, one more time.

Unsteady eyes captured the soggy, sooty dirt of the earth and when it traveled upwards, the frame of the woman who was still standing valiantly against all odds. She was battle-torn and weary-looking, but still; she stood. 

With her spear poised in her hands, she readied herself against the menace known as Zenos yae Galvus. She shouted something as she turned around to face him, but Hien Rijin did not hear; he was losing grip over his senses, and they were failing him fast…

Her face, terrified at the costs that she had incurred – that _they_ had incurred – and the costs yet to come.

And that was when the forceful roar of a firearm discharging could be heard, and she stumbled back a few paces showering a warm spatter over his face. His heart coiled and tightened, a sudden fear seizing it in an icy grip –

And then the Garlean usurper moved in with his sword, cutting her down in a single, brief stroke. That one, last rending wave sliced away polearm, armour, skin, flesh, bone.

Crumpling into a soundless heap, she fell before his eyes and blossomed into a crimson flower. At the same time, an unbearable pain excised itself into his own torso; an excruciating agony rippling and searing into his very being as if he had been struck down in her place. He crawled forwards indignantly before falling down in parallel to her lifeless body, and he stared at her face hoping that some sort of sign would stir her back to life.

There was nothing, but the flickering of yellow lights from the fires that raged around them, and their ghostly whites danced in her glassy, blue marbles.

“Ah… the hunt is over.” The low-toned rasp of her killer hissed from above, exhilaration seeping through his voice. “It is… finally over…”

“...over…”

The burning smoke and the seeping cold of death swirled together and was drowned out by the last throes of his nightmare, as it washed away from the early morning sunlight. The Doman prince bolted upright from his tumble of bed garments; palms pressing against the tatami mat floor in the assurance that this was real, and not a continuation of his dream. Sounds of the Kienkan Manor’s servants going about their chores for the day could be heard quietly in the distance.

A sigh of relief passed Hien’s lips, and he opted to wipe his perspiration off his face with a hand. That dream felt too real; the _pain_ felt too tangible. 

A sharp knock rapped against the door of his bedchambers. Judging by the early morning punctuality that was characteristic of a certain vassal, he surmised it was Yugiri. Hien hastily got up, pulling fresh robes over his frame. 

“Come in.” 

The loyal Raen shinobi’s voice could be heard from the other side of the sliding partition. “Yes, Lord Hien.” Carefully entering his chambers but naught more than a bent knee forward, Yugiri kept her head low and eyes trained on the ground out of respect for her liege. “I've got an urgent report. Regarding Eorzea.”

“Report.” 

Yugiri paused for a short moment, wondering how to phrase her words. “‘Tis a matter regarding… Eorzea’s champion.”

Hien froze, as memories of his nightmare came snapping back at his heels once more.

“What of– what of her?” He cleared his throat uneasily as he carried on with his task of getting dressed; fingers fumbling over the cord that held his breastplate together. Yugiri tensed slightly.

“Vanished, my lord. Roughly a fortnight ago, on an expedition to the Crystal Tower in Mor Dhona to seek answers and possibly a cure for the slumbering Scions, she had vanished. As if she was spirited away by some greater force beyond our current comprehension.”

The first thought that came into his mind was a cruel, iron-grip fear of the threat of Garlean invasion. No doubt if the enemy caught wind that the Warrior of Light was missing, they would seize the opportunity to spearhead a strategic assault on their borders. The second thought that followed immediately after was the raw, burning feeling of dread. It was vague and yet, Hien could feel it clearly; twisting in the pit of his stomach like a wreath of snakes.

“Vanished? And this was a _fortnight_ ago? Have we heard anything from the Scion’s esteemed bookkeeper?” Hien spoke, though his words might as well be muttered out as he began to march past the partitions obscuring the inner folds of his chambers, towards Yugiri. Fully dressed in his stately clothing, he stared at her, glowering for a moment, before relinquishing his stoic glare with a worried sigh. 

“Aye, the Scions of the Seventh Dawn are working closely with the Sons of Saint Coinach and Garlond Ironworks to encover some method of… bringing her back.” Yugiri spoke softly, her fist hardening into a tight coil as she pressed her knuckles harder into the wooden floorboards. 

“I see. We should make haste, as well.” He responded roughly and immediately gathered his things, including his sword which laid ready and waiting by the arms rack at the wayside. Yugiri broke her contact with the floor and her head flew upwards in unrestrained surprise, thus severing her impeccable image of subservience. 

“M-My lord?! What of Othard, o-of _Doma?_ The people need you here, and rightly so!” She protested now, and despite the heavy aches she too, carried in her own heart of the ill news she had to bear, she knew where her duty was, and where it lied. And it was with Doma. 

“The Garleans have withdrawn their troops, and with the barrier constructed at the Burn the Garleans would be hard-pressed to try to send any bodies to Othard.” Hien responded stubbornly, and had thrown wide the doors of his chambers and began to noisily make his way down the hall. Yugiri followed after him quickly; a furious look of panic on her face.

“ _My lord!”_ She protested once more, heavier this time, as she raced after the Doman heir. “Even if you _did_ want to do something, what _can_ you do?”

A heavy exhale came from Hien; its sound rumbling with melancholy. He could not afford to unravel into a mess, not even in front of Yugiri. And she was right; what _could_ he possibly hope to achieve? He, who was raised only to lead a nation and to use a sword. He wasn’t gifted in knowledge of the properties of aether, or anything remotely scientific. It was impossible for someone like him to conjure up a method to bring back the Warrior of Light; the liberator of Doma. _His friend._

“I need some air.” He muttered, audible only to his vassal, and quickly walked away and out of the Kienkan Manor’s premises. 

  


He took his yol out for a ride out in Yanxia’s breeze, flying low along the banks of the One river before soaring high amidst the mountainous peaks of the Gensui Chain. Golden sunlight was filtering throughout the valley, and as the rays angled a little higher it struck the shimmering waters below. Rice paddies lined the hills surrounding Namai; the stalks of fresh green heavy laden with a bountiful harvest. All was at peace in the still-early hours of Doma, and the sound of nothing but water, birds, and the wind whistling through his ears calmed Hien’s heart, even if it was a little.

First, it was Alphinaud. Hien held himself responsible for his disappearance since he had sent the lad as an emissary of Doma. And even when he was returned safely, he had fallen into the inexplicable slumber. Then it was the Scions; one after another. Until only she was left, and he could do nothing but watch her slave away to find cause or remedy for her slumber-locked companions.

Despite everything, she still rode with him into battle, at Ghimlyt Dark, to face their oppressors in this seemingly never-ending, bloody campaign. Despite the dangers, she still stood her ground when he was already bested, face down in the dirt. 

That glimpse of her back as she came into his view to guard him against Zenos yae Galvus’s inhuman onslaught. 

When that memory slipped into his waking mind, scenes of his nightmare began to replay themselves and he subconsciously gripped the reins of his yol harder. The creature let out a pained screech, and tumbled down, dropping him out of flight. Thankfully, he had been passing over the Glittering Basin and the deep waters caught his fall. He tumbled into the waters with a loud splash, for no one to hear.

He watched that blue halo of light drifting farther and farther as he sank deeper into the cold depths. A part of him felt resigned to just fade into the darkness, but the basin’s waters were shallow and, soon he felt his back brush against the sandy ground. Sediments stirred and swirled as the lights from above glimmered brightly, as if to beckon him back up to the surface. 

The last of the air in his lungs was threatening to expire, and he reluctantly swam back up and breached past the rippling waters to take in a gasp of air. His dark locks clung to his face thickly, and pushing a bunch of bangs that come undone from his ponytail out of his eyes, he began the swim back to shore. 

Coughing and spluttering like a mad fool as he dragged himself up on the gravelly shores, Hien took a moment to catch his breath; chest heaving as he felt the morning rays slowly warm the expanse of his back. He hauled himself up, stumbling against the grass before he dropped to his knees in a strange fit of exhaustion. 

The smell of gunpowder, smoke, and blood burning filled his senses. His hands found purchase in the form of the soft earth, and he gripped it tightly, uprooting blades of grass as he did so. 

_“I won’t let Doma fall. I won’t let_ **_you_ ** _fall.”_ Once, not too long ago, she had promised him with those words. The quiet determination in her eyes, and the faintest hint of melancholy on her stoic face was evidence of how strongly she felt. The way how her touch warmed him when she found the rare opportunities to hold him, in however small of a gesture – or how often she would smile, laugh, or even a gaze left lingering too long – how could he had been so _foolish?_

A sigh, and he rubbed his eyes. _Yes, how foolish of them._

And now she was gone, leaving him behind.


	2. Hien II – Dusk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shining so bright like a star, they found themselves already in her orbit and bathe in her light. Three POVs, three sections each.
> 
> Hien, on the implications of what it means to lose your protector and to fail to protect the one you love.  
> Aymeric, in which he must choose between duty to his nation and duty to his heart.  
> Ardbert, where he finds his purpose and makes peace with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hien II – Dusk  
> The night comes, and so does she.

Efforts to reconstruct Doma had been well underway for quite some time already, many thanks to the Warrior of Light’s endeavours and donations. Kozakura would know better than anyone else, as she was in charge of all of the funds and delegated the money into helping get things running back to their former shape and form. And so it was apparent to the young Doman Hyur that it came to her attention lately that Lord Hien had decidedly help firsthand with the manual labour and tasks they had set aside for the common folk.

At first, their lord had shown genuine interest in how the artisans’ craft benefited Doma and wanted to seek opportunities to seek growth in trade and export, therefore increasing profits for the nation’s coffers. Master Araragi was rather eager to show him their production facilities and how each sheet of paper was processed from the logs of lumber. Ihase showed the painstaking steps on growing rice at the paddies and discussed at length with their liege on building additional aqueducts to better streamline the flow of water for their crops. Ishibushi was always eager with new designs and prints at hand to discuss how to better improve the infrastructure of the enclave, and entertained the thought of paving roads to Namai…

The sudden, keen interest wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, seeing as how battle at the frontlines have subsided for now, and the Garleans have been on the quiet side for some time now; however, it was almost unlike and like Lord Hien to completely throw himself into work and exhausted all hours of his day. And the timing was rather suspicious. Well, that wasn't something that was teased on Yugiri’s stoic face, but even Kozakura could lift an imprint of worry from the shinobi’s visage whenever the topic of the Warrior of Light came up. 

“He’s been like this ever since, well, _you-know-who_ up and disappeared nary a trace,” Mitsuba spoke plaintively to her cohort, fanning herself under the shade the Ten Thousand Stalls has to offer. Seated across from her having her midday lunch was Kozakura, who munched thoughtfully on the bento that was prepared for her. “We all worry, but none so fervently as Lord Hien; as much as he tries to hide it.”

“He smiles too much.” Kozakura agreed after a swallow, working on a skewer of grilled chicken. “‘Tis plain as day that something is amiss.” 

Amiss, indeed. “Missin’ for his security blanket? The Warrior of Light?” Mitsuba laughed at her own joke, playfully slapping her right knee as she did so. “Aye, I would be too, if the hero who vanquished those Garlean curs was suddenly up ‘n gone.”

Sipping a mouthful of tea to wash down the rest of her lunch, Kozakura peered up at the bright sky thoughtfully. Her memories of the Warrior of Light had been nothing short of positive, though if she were to rack her brain for any memories involving the pair… well, there may have been a few times where she’d caught them staring at one another a moment too long, but she had always brushed it off as their friendship forged from their travels throughout Yanxia and Ala Mhigo. “I haven’t thought much of it, but you don’t think… that Lord Hien… possibly he might…?”

“Huh?” Mitsuba stared blankly back at the merchant. “Might what? Might fancy the Warrior of Light? Well that’s bloody obvious ain’t it?”

Kozakura tried to hide her embarrassment by taking another swig of her tea. “W-Well, I suppose I was too busy to notice…”

A moment of silence passed between the two friends, and that lapse was broken by the quiet cries of a group of bi fang cloudkin passing by overhead.

“Well, back to work.” Mitsuba grunted as she got up from her languid position, and dusted her hands before taking away the plates and chopsticks to bring to the wash. “You’d best be heading back to the Shazenkai.”

“Mmm. Yes.” She agreed, and gathered her things together before waving goodbye to Mitsuba. As the young woman neared the Aetheryte that stood in the center of the Enclave, she paused for a moment to fish for her handkerchief to wipe away the perspiration from the humid clime that is the Doman summer. As she stood there fumbling for her square of cotton, the sound of the aetheryte thrumming to life caught her attention and she glanced up out of momentary curiosity to see who the visitor was.

A rather-tired looking woman of sizable repute came glancing in the midsummer air; her usual armoured visage was visibly lacking, and instead, a loose cardigan-gown of Ala Mhigan design covered her shoulders over a basic shirt and trousers. Kozakura nearly dropped her handkerchief she’d finally wrestled out from the folds of her robes in fright, and she took a step forward to make sure she wasn’t looking at some mirage in the summer heat.

“W-W-Why, it’s the Warrior of Light!” She exclaimed in a hushed voice, quickly scurrying over to the woman who looked much smaller and frailer than she last remembered. The liberator of Doma glanced up in mild surprise and smiled when she spotted Kozakura. “Oh, Kozakura. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“‘ _Been a while?’_ My goodness, do you know the fuss you’ve stirred up while you were gone?!” The merchant exclaimed profusely, waving her hands for added effect. “By the kami, once Yugiri catches wind of–”

Yugiri’s voice rang out, calling the Warrior of Light by her given name. She looked unsurprised but greatly relieved all the same. Kozakura felt a little foolish for losing her composure so easily compared to the stoic shinobi. “I sent a message for you right away as soon as I heard, but ‘tis only been a matter of a day and you’ve arrived so soon.” The Raen exclaimed softly, pressing hands on the Auri woman’s shoulders to make sure she was touching solid matter. 

“Well, you _did_ state in your report that it was urgent that I come back to Doma… pray tell me, Yugiri, did something happen with the Garleans while I was gone? Was it another attack?” The Warrior of Light prodded quickly, still ever-eager to address any problems that they might have.

The shinobi shook her head slightly, but only tightened her grip on the woman’s shoulders. “No, but please rest easy for now; ‘tis a matter I must confide to you, that is all.” 

She was now physically dragging the lightly protesting yet confused Warrior of Light along in a tepid walk, and Kozakura was left there standing in a befuddled state while earnestly still wiping the perspiration off her face.

* * *

In a small room inside the Kienkan, the Warrior of Light was welcomed with a tray of refreshments and some tea while Yugiri sat across the tea table from her, looking rather more stoic than usual and so deeply pensive that she spared no thought about the sweet dango laid out before her. As the Warrior of Light tentatively picked up a skewer to nibble on the snack, it was then where the shinobi finally found the moment to speak up.

“Your absence has left much of the nation-states in great panic. Some mildly less, others more so.” Yugiri began with a gentle admonishment, but her eyes lowered with respect as she did so. “And I’m afraid none more so than Lord Hien was hit particularly hard with your disappearance.” 

The Warrior of Light glanced quizzically back at Yugiri. “Hien? Where is he, anyway? I should perhaps give him my greetings and let him know I’m back, if that would ease some burden off his mind–”

“Lord Hien is out and working at the smithy today. He took a great interest in speeding up Doma’s recovery and progress since you’ve been gone. While his guidance and willingness to learn firsthand the labours of Doma’s people benefited everyone’s morale greatly, I fear his own is faltering.” Yugiri explained slowly, watching the visage of the woman’s face before her, very carefully. “I fear that he may have equated your absence as a great loss on some personal level, and throwing himself into work is the only thing that is keeping him sane.”

The Warrior of Light looked fairly alarmed at this revelation, and her expressions knitted together worriedly as she considered Yugiri’s words. “B-But, I’m not dead! I’m back now, so surely everything will–”

Yugiri’s hand shot out, pinning the Xaela’s arm in a vice grip that wasn’t meant to harm but only as a warning of sorts. Her fist trembled. _“Lord Hien is taken with you, don’t you see?”_

She says nothing, but her face blanked of all emotion as if her heart was holding its breath. Any trace of emotion might betray her position, she feared, for she had a role to play and romance was not part of the equation. 

“Yugiri–”

The raven-haired shinobi let go of her hand with a guilty look on her face. “I’m sorry. I should not have disclosed this to you; ‘twas not my right. But I could not stand standing idly by watching from afar at how deeply in denial you are. You, and Lord Hien.”

The Warrior of Light’s mouth twitched open to say something, but nothing comes out instead. Yugiri did not wait for her to, either. “That day, when we were bested by the newly-arisen Zenos yae Galvus… when I surely thought we were done for… milord kept on holding hope… he knew that you would come, and did not retreat… and you _did_ . You _came back_ for us...”

Her mouth closed into a firm line. “That was because I promised him. I promised _all_ of Doma.”

“Yes, but to see you cut down the moment you were overcome with the Calling… the Lord was beside himself with fear that you’d been slain by that monster. And then a friend of yours pilfering your battered body away, like a stranger filching a corpse off the battlefield to deny him even the opportunity to grieve… unbeknownst to us at the time that he had secretly taken you to Ishgard to heal your injuries… Lord Hien was inconsolable.”

At Yugiri’s words, she felt her chest squeezing so tightly that she could not dare draw breath. “I– I should’ve notified you sooner, I–”

Yugiri shook her head, swiftly silencing the Warrior of Light. “You were out cold for three days. How could you have? That bastard almost made a corpse out of you, and for three days milord was convinced you were as such. To hear the news from the Scions that you were being treated, was the singular thing that dragged him out from his hell. He wanted to depart for the Holy See, too, if it weren’t for the fact that you had left as suddenly as you were admitted.” 

She made a motion to exit the tea room and opened the door to let herself out. But she stopped short by the doorway, before glancing back at the Warrior of Light one last time. 

“Go. Go to him. You can find him at Master Tsuranuki’s stall.”

* * *

“Good, good. Don’t strike too hard, Doman steel is brittle but when shaped properly, it will last the ages.” Tsuranuki’s gruff voice rose above the crackling of the embers, standing over the hunched form of a rather dishevelled-looking Hien Rijin who was currently attempting to repair a dent in a cooking pot. He’d expressed interest in perhaps starting with the swords, but the master claimed he first needed a basic understanding of the ore before he was allowed to tarnish any weapons that he fancied himself.

Grunting with effort, Hien allowed the cross-pein hammer to strike the pot at an even pace, taking Tsuranuki’s advice into consideration. His usual robes were replaced by a worker’s outfit, though the heat from the forge had forced him to forego the decency of being covered and he had rolled back the top half, bare-chested and all. A rag was wrapped around his forehead to keep the sweat out of his eyes. 

He turned the pot over, examining the blackened mass amidst the flames, and then began to adjust and refine the bumps with a few more quick swings. “Alright, I think I’ve got it this time.” He proclaimed loudly and dunked the pot into a tub of water to cool off the metal. 

“We’ll see about that.” Tsuranuki took the pot from Hien’s hands, dipping in a moderate amount of water into its shallows and held it up. The water held firmly for a moment before a small trickle ran down the length underneath it.

“Milord, you simply have too much strength in your swing.” Tsuranuki spoke plainly, setting the leaky pot down. “Fix it.”

Hien sighed to himself, and wordlessly reached for his failed project when he sensed someone walking up towards the front of the smithy. It was perhaps another one of Tsuranui’s patrons, probably here to complain about why it was taking so long to fix their leaky pot. “Be right there with you!” He bellowed out, stoking the fires quickly for his dozen or so attempt at fixing this blasted thing.

“My goodness, _you’re alive!_ ” Tsuranuki’s voice echoed from the front of his shop, and Hien turned around quickly to see who it was. 

Standing awkwardly by the counter was the Warrior of Light, who was glancing down at her shuffling feet and looking rather civilized in non-combat robes; her complexion looked a little weak, but she was there, in the flesh, standing before him. Hien dropped the pot he was holding and stared, wondering if the heat exhaustion had finally gotten to his mind and that he was now hallucinating on top of everything else.

She finally glanced up, and their eyes locked – for a full moment, she only stared back – and then she finally spoke, putting on a bashful smile.

“Hien, I’m back.”

Master Tsuranuki glanced back at his pupil, and even though said pupil was his liege, he was still under his mentorship and immediately, the old man barked out. “Don’t just stand there like a dolt! Come over and greet her properly!”

Hien rubbed his eyes despite how sooty he was, and immediately his state of filthiness and disarray had him feeling very self-conscious. “Wait! I’m just – er, I mean right now I’m in the middle of–” He spluttered, words tumbling out like unrefined vomit, and Tsuranuki clicked his tongue in annoyance before taking the Doman prince by the ear and dragging him over forcefully. 

“Why don’t you just take the evening off? I’m sure you have plenty of things to discuss and to catch up on.” Tsuranuki gruffly suggested, and Hien wheeled around so quickly and so furiously, the Warrior of Light swore she could see sparks flying. “B-But Master, I’ve yet to fix–”

“Here you go again with your blubbering. An old man like me needs his rest, and a good night’s rest doesn’t come easy if I’m up all evening tellin’ you how to mend a damn leaky pot!” Tsuranuki waved his hand in dismissal and flicked the wooden badge by the entrance to his stalls that read ‘open’ to ‘closed’ in Doman script. “I’ll clean up here, so why don’t you get washed up before you go scarin’ off the Warrior of Light with ye filth?”

“I…” Hien considered Tsuranuki’s offer before he solemnly nodded back. “Thank you.”

Tsuranuki only grumbled in response.

Turning back to face the Warrior of Light, Hien realized that she’d been staring at him the entire exchange and flustered visibly at the fact. He was still dreaming, right? This wasn’t real, was it?

“You look confused.” Her laughter came out so naturally, twinkling with that characteristic chime of hers. “And I don’t blame you.” 

“Well, uh… yes. Yes, I am.” He admitted sheepishly, before taking a step back. He was out here since the early bells of the morning, he was positive he was absolutely putrid compared to the impeccably-clean and tidy image of the Warrior of Light. “Would it be… c-could you give a moment to be a bit, ahem, more presentable?”

She initially looked shocked at his suggestion but seemed to understand judging by the expression in her eyes as she considered his proposition. “Of course.”

“Shall you wait for me then? By the docks, in one bell’s time.” 

A smile crossed her features. “I’ve kept you waiting long enough. Yes. I will wait for you.”


	3. Hien III — Eventide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hien III – Eventide  
> Jealousy brings forth confessions in the dark.

She waited by the docks; the evening had now grown late and the night sky had dimmed considerably since her midday arrival to the Doman Enclave. Without the sun beating down its rays on the earth, the air had cooled considerably and there was a refreshing breeze in the air. Leaning against a large crate stacked against another in a big shipment of goods that had arrived possibly earlier that day, she would occasionally glance around to see if Hien was coming, but decided that she was being overly anxious and decided to fiddle with the hem of her cardigan instead. 

In the expanse of the time she had to herself, she had visited the Ten Thousand Stalls whereupon she had met up with Kozakura again, as well as surprising Mitsuba at her stand. The Hellsguard woman was quite taken aback at her presence, and she had a bit of a chat with the women before making her way over to pay respects to the others. 

And yet, she found herself feeling more nervous than she’d last recall she’d been in anticipation of waiting for the appointed time. Yugiri’s words from earlier did not leave her mind and only served to exacerbate the anxiety. Her hand found itself cupping the fringes of her hair; instinctively touching it out of habit. The evening was cool; it was still warm, but the scorching heat from the day had subsided immensely, allowing for a peaceful night’s rest for the villagers.

Her face faced upwards, staring at the silky, night sky blanketed with an innumerable amount of stars that glittered across its expanse. It was still strange to see the darkness of the heavens, to feel such a strange serenity from its sight; surely, she had spent much time in the First and was almost too adjusted to the neverending bane of eternal daylight.

The events of just a mere week prior replayed in her mind. The truth of their world being connected to the First, the conception of such a state, and the earth-shattering discovery that Hydaelyn and Zodiark were Primals summoned by the first Ascians. The moment of terror she felt when she almost felt the Light possessing her soul and numbing her existence into oblivion; the fine balance teetering between retaining her sense of self and becoming a Sin Eater…

“Excuse me…” A voice inquired for the Warrior of Light’s name from a short distance away, and she glanced quickly upwards to gauge the inquirer for her presence. Normally, this was a practised tradition she was all too familiar with, as more than often quite a few people found themselves wanting of her aid. But for some reason, tonight, she was jumpy as her heart nearly bounded out of her throat, having almost mistaken the voice for a certain Doman prince.

“Y-Yes?” She stuttered uncharacteristically, hands quickly pressing down on her beating heart in hopes of physically restraining it from racing too fast.

“Ah, uhm, I was just wondering, if I could have a moment of your time…” The young man started awkwardly, quickly glancing down at the ground they stood upon. The Warrior of Light grounded herself, steeling her mind to focus. If her memory served her correctly, this was Kiuka; a labourer of the Enclave, working closely by the Ten Thousand Stalls…

“Um…” She peered around him, spying quickly to see if Hien was coming their way. He wasn’t. _Well, if it wouldn’t take long, I suppose I could listen to his troubles…_ “...sure. What can I help you with?”

“Just for a small chat. Erm, well, you see…” Kiuka started quickly, before trailing off again. He was having some difficulty placing his words, and she glanced back at him expectantly in hopes she would understand his intent. He seemed a bit frustrated, but moreso at himself. 

“Pardon me for what I am about to say. I want to preface this with the fact that the Empire’s forces are no more to be seen, and I understand fully that our people yet suffer in the aftermath. But, it is in times like this, I believe pleasant distractions are the most welcome... “ He seemed to dislike each word that came out of his mouth by the passing second and rubbed his forehead in vexation.

“What I mean to say is… What I want to tell you is… that I’ve come to find myself besotted with you.” Kiuka grumbled the words out, staring at the Warrior of Light with a hard look who only seemed to gaze back, mouth agape.

_Wait, wait, wait just a minute. What on Hydaelyn’s good earth is happening? Kiuka? What? When?!_

“E-Erm… _me?_ ” She stammered back, mind blanking on what to say or how to respond. The confusion was settling in. Was Yugiri pulling her chain about Hien… when she was actually talking about Kiuka? Wait, that can’t be right, she’s only talked with the farmhand just a few, short times, perhaps played a few Triple Triad matches on a few occasions —

“Y-Yes!” Kiuka was near-shouting now, most probably an attempt to still his rattled nerves. He pressed in closer, placing a firm grip on her shoulder. “What do you say? W-Would it be possible if I could h-have an answer?”

Her eyes were spiralling away from Kiuka’s earnest face; fingers threading over her heated face flush with embarrassment. “W-Wait, an answer to _w-what_ exactly?”

“There’s no need to answer that.”

She turned her head around to find the less-sooty face of Hien Rijin, who stood imposingly before the two of them; his face stony cold. He quickly placed his hand over Kiuka’s, forcibly removing his grip on her shoulder before his other hand took hold of her arm. 

“Come with me.” He commanded, in a tone of authority she had _never_ heard him use on her before. With a quick tug and a brisk stride, he was soon dragging her off away from the pale-faced farmhand who looked like he witnessed a ghost.

The sudden intrusion broke the stillness of the night air, but it didn’t stop her eyes to meet the less-dishevelled-looking Doman prince still leading her by the arm; straight as an arrow. He was back in his usual garments; the mix of Doman robes lined with fur and iron-plated armour, despite the late hour. That detail struck her as odd, but regardless she dismissed it as a simple facet of her overthinking. Still, he appeared out of nowhere seemingly, and such a sudden entrance still spooked her.

“Hien?”

Her voice broke him out of whatever strange reverie he found himself in, and he quickly let go of her arm. His hold was warm, and the release of his grip sent her arm into a strange, heated shock. He cleared his throat, embarrassed. “Ahem, s-sorry about that. Are you alright?”

“No more than worse for wear.” She attempted to greet him with her usual, warm tone. “Good to see you without the few layers of soot.”

He let out an awkward laugh. “Was it that bad?”

His question was innocuous enough, but she had to pause for a moment as she recalled the scene from earlier within her mind. Hien had always been quite a bit on the… well, _built_ side of things, but she had never spared any additional thoughts, or Hydaelyn forbade, _fantasies of_ the man. Feeling the nervousness prickle the back of her neck in the form of perspiration building, she quickly glanced away and shuffled her body away in a sudden bout of self-consciousness.

Hien seemed to sense her comprehension. “I take it Yugiri had managed to acquire you on such short notice. For that, I must apologize on her behalf. She’d taken the liberty of ferrying you halfway across the world with nary a word to me.” His apology was genuine, and the Warrior of Light hoped that he wouldn’t give the shinobi a scolding later. 

“Ah, uhm, yes… Tataru informed her on my behalf, as well, without my knowledge.” She tried to press a smile on her face. 

Moths were beginning to draw themselves to the lit lantern that hung above their heads. Hien glanced up at it as well, holding a small bout of silence before gesturing towards the ferryman.

“Take a walk with me? I’m sure you have much to talk about your travels.”

She gave a slow nod to accept his proposal and tentatively followed him to the edge of the docks to cross the One River.

* * *

The sky had darkened considerably, with a wave of smokey haze drifting from the small pockets of heated gas and water from the Glittering Basin. She walked down the rutted path alongside Hien in a languid pace, wondering if he had elected to take her to a destination in mind for nary a word had been uttered in the entire duration they had travelled across the river. 

The skiff captain had generously brought them out despite the late hour without complaint, and he merely tipped the brim of his straw hat in regards to the pair before silently making his way back to the Enclave. She wanted to ask Hien what his plans were for the rest of the evening, and the question of possibly just simply retiring for the night danced in her mind. But Hien seemed insistent despite having said nothing, that they were going to roam the fringes of Yanxia and nothing seemed to stop the man at his quest.

Trekking up the road that was gently sloping upwards towards Yuzuka Manor, the Warrior of Light took a moment of brief reprieve to catch her breath. The battle with Hades had left her strength wanting, and while the trial’s physical tolls will fade quickly, the myriad of answers that were left behind clouded and cluttered her mind. Letting out a shaky breath, she silently urged herself to continue and took heaving step forwards when she spotted an outstretched hand entering her vision.

“Lost our breath already, have we?” Hien chuckled aloud as he offered his hand to her. “That’s quite unlike you.” She said nothing, but donned a small smile and accepted his hand to pull herself up the last of the steep climb. She felt his hand squeeze over hers tightly, and her toes almost lifting off the ground when he pulled her entire weight up with ease. 

“Thank you.” She glanced down at her hand, still held firmly in his. Yugiri’s words came floating back at the forefront of her mind, and instantly a heated discomfort came over her visage. Or the fact that he had torn her away from Kiuka’s impromptu confession so quickly… well, those thoughts did little to soothe the bundle of frazzled nerves inside of her chest at the moment.

“I wanted to us to catch up, without the intrusion of others where they can’t pester us.” Hien laughed as he found a grove of pine trees on top of the cliff they had just hiked up, overlooking the moonlit waters of the Glittering Basin. Taking a seat on the dry grass and then patting on the spot beside him to indicate for her to sit down, she quickly seated herself without a word, nodding wordlessly back.

“Ah, but not without a few indulgences.” Hien brought out the small, cloth bundle-like knapsack and unwrapped a small basket containing a sake bottle and two cups to share. “You do partake, do you not?” He grinned, framing his question as a matter of a challenge rather than a thought of innocuous ignorance.

“I do.” She smiled as she accepted the cup he handed to her and bowed her head slightly in thanks when Hien quickly poured her out a cup. “Thank you. It smells quite sweet.”

Hien was quick to pour his own drink and was already taking a small sip. “It is, isn’t it? That was made with the rice from our first harvest. And it was all thanks to your donations that the Demense was up and running in record time.” Hien spoke fondly, rubbing the brim of the ceramic that held his liquor in remembrance. “We had the first taste of Doman rice in years.”

The Warrior of Light, glanced down at her drink contemplatively, remembering how she helped coordinate efforts with Ihase to get the rice paddies securely planted as well as discussing irrigation techniques to keep it healthy all season long. She was renowned across the realm for vanquishing Primals and Empire forces, but it was little known that she held a foot firmly in the field of botany, and so the long talks with Ihase itself were educationally rewarding.

“Yes, but it’s all thanks to Ihase and the farmhands that the rice was able to come out so beautifully.” She pointed out, quick to deflect the bulk of valour away from her reputation. “I was only there for a portion of the planning, nothing more.”

“My friend, you make light of your achievements far too often.” Hien peered back at her from the rim of his cup as he took another swig of sake, downing its contents quickly. “And too much talking, not enough drinking!”

“Are you pressuring me?” She murmured back with a chuckle, pressing the cup to her lips as she tasted the burning sweetness melt over her mouth. “But you have my thanks, to be able to taste this sake... It’s quite delicious. Thank you.”

The prince let out a contented hum, leaning back against the bark of the pine tree as he gazed out the distance of Yanxia. The abandoned fortress of Castrum Fluminis still stood in the distance, stark against the pale, night sky. But where it used to be a symbol of dread, strangely, now he felt nothing in particular about it. Such a strange, peaceful lull in his heart where once it was wrenched in burdens of lost hope and the inability to face his people.

“But, enough about that. I do believe you owe me an explanation of sorts.” He shifted to turn to face her, and although his tone still retained that playful optimism she knew him for, there was a certain twinge in the way how he said it that occurred to her that he seemed hurt about her being spirited away into her adventures in Norvrandt. 

“I suppose I do, don’t I? Well, I hope you’re settled in. It’s a long one.” She picked up the sake bottle and refilled his cup, pinching a smile out from his face. 

And so she talked, for a very long while as she explained everything as well as she could. About how their world was known as the Source, and how the Ascians came to be and split their world into thirteen reflections. How she was spirited away to the First, the first reflection of the Source, and how due to Ascian interference it was lost to the Flood of Light. And that such a threat still continues, as their work is not yet done and they intend to do the same with the remaining reflections.

Hien was patient, never stopping her as she gave her account of her travels and findings, only quietly listening as he held his cup of sake and took a few drinks throughout her story. 

She talked about how she found the Scions that had succumbed to the Calling over in the First, and their plans to securely and safely transport their aether and souls back to the Source, and that they had yet to figure out a solid plan. And that she was perhaps the only one who could freely travel between here and the First without punishment, by some twisted blessing.

“By the kami. It sounds quite the tale, yet I believe everything you’ve told me as the truth. All the pieces that didn’t fit before is finding its place on the table, now.” Hien murmured finally after she had finished telling him all she could muster. “Pieces that are finally making the bigger picture clearer.”

“The First is slowly stabilizing itself now that I… have destroyed the excess Light.” The Warrior of Light spoke tentatively, sipping her sake slowly. “So my next priority is to see Thancred, Y’shtola, Urianger… Alisaie, and Alphinaud back home safely. Before time twists itself further and it becomes impossible.”

Her lip quivered, as the alcohol burned against the cuts on her lip. Urianger was working on a new lead, Y’shtola was acquiring the necessities he needed, and she was sure Alphinaud and Alisaie were busy scouring any pertinent texts they might come across with the Crystal Exarch’s aid, but…

“You feel responsible.” Hien stated pointedly, earning him a look of surprise from the woman. 

“W-Well, I… isn’t it? That _I_ am responsible for this? _My_ fault that they’ve gotten themselves in this mess?”

“So do you feel responsible for all the ill omens that have befallen my people, because you felt obligated to save them? Or perhaps the lives lost to the tempering of the Primals that plagued your homeland?” Hien retorted hotly, his voice surprisingly full of charged emotion. “Are you responsible for all the bad things that happen in life?”

“I…” Caught off-guard by his explosive reply, the Auri woman could not find anything to say but simply held tightly onto her little, sake cup as if clinging on for dear life. 

Hien’s eyes burned as he stared back at her for a moment, and then he set down his cup before gently taking her into his arms into a tight embrace. All the hairs stood at the back of her neck in surprise, but it wasn’t the unpleasant sort; it was the pure exhilaration pulsing throughout her body and the pounding of her chest that threatened to beat against his. Fingers that were curled around the sake cup loosened, and it fell soundlessly upon the grass.

“H-H-Hien?” Her voice muffled against the warmth of his chest, lips brushing against the warm, steel plate of his armour. His hold tightened, and she felt his hand tightening around the back of her neck, refusing to let go. 

He whispered her name, his voice audibly raspy against her ear. “...I cannot relinquish you. Not for the time being. Because I’m a foolish man, and because I’m sure as seven hells Yugiri had already told you.” She thought back quickly to Yugiri’s words, and soon her face sufficiently gathered enough heat to power up a Boilmaster Mark XII that would make even Nero proud.

“I… I um… I…”

“When I saw Kiuka with you, all the hesitation I knew disappeared,” Hien growled at the memory, and bullets of perspiration began to pour out of the Warrior of Light’s face. “I’ve always known you had quite a few admirers, but it wasn’t something I wanted to think about, until the very possibility of you being snatched away from me, I…”

“You were… _you were jealous_ of Kiuka?” She managed out incredulously, and Hien slowly detached from their embrace to gaze back at her with a look of groused discontent. _Is he… sulking?_

“And what if I am?” He spoke plainly, tugging her closer again. “I am just as besotted with you as Kiuka, if not a far deal greater if I might add.” A finger, rough and calloused from battle, gently brushed a strand of stray hair out of her eyes as he stared impatiently back at the Warrior of Light who looked absolutely bewildered at the moment.

Her hands that were frozen in place finally awoken and found their place around him, and she stubbornly pressed her face against his chest so he wouldn’t see her face achieving Boilmaster Mark XII status. 

"I don't know what to say," She exhaled breathlessly, feeling her fingernails dig into the fabric of his kimono. "I... I didn't know before today that you... I..."

"Would you have preferred it not being me?" He leaned in, returning fire with loaded questions. Her heart thudded harder at their sudden intimacy. _No, of course not! How could I not?_ She wanted to scream, but instead, her grip tightened in response. "I... I-I... I..."

She had known from the start what her preference would be. "T-That's not it, Hien." She shyly managed out, hanging her burning face low as she stared at the fabric of her own shirt instead. She wasn't never one to back down from a confrontation, but this was a whole new territory she was straying into. Hien was intimidating; intimidatingly overwhelming with emotion. Her grip loosened, and they grew into fists and settled on her lap as if she was steeling herself. 

Mustering all the courage she had, she raised her head up to gaze at him, eye-to-eye, before defiantly declaring her confession. "I love you, Hien. I'm sorry I couldn't see it sooner, and I'm sorry I made you worry over me. I cannot guarantee I would be a good partner for you, and I cannot guarantee what the future might ask of me, but I— _mphm!_ "

She saw the look of relief and utter happiness flash in his expression before she felt his mouth encasing over hers, catching her off-guard in a warm, chaste kiss. Slowly, her eyes closed as she allowed herself to relinquish herself to this feeling. Hien's kiss felt clumsy, a little scratchy from his stubble, and tasted of sake. But they were all perfect imperfections in this particular moment in time. 

Even though the kiss began chastely, she could soon feel the passion heating her mouth as the prince deepened their contact; hungry lips roved over hers, and warm tongue lapped tentatively at the taste. Wresting away from the Doman lord's kiss turned sudden lecherous, the Warrior of Light sought the opportunity to catch her ragged breath and to let the night air fan a cooling breeze over her inflamed cheeks. It almost seemed uncharacteristic yet strikingly so, for Hien to be so... adept at these matters. 

"You made me so happy with your words, I could not help myself," Hien confessed; colour filling his own face as his previously swollen confidence began to sink back down to its normal baseline. "All the while, I had thought you were simply uninterested, perhaps strategically distant at best, given your position of being the realm's hero." She faltered a little at his words, for a shred of truth was embedded within his perception, and it wasn't at all false. But it felt good to reaffirm their feelings for one another. For _her_ to face her true feelings on the matter. 

She leaned against his chest, pressing a cheek over his heart. It was drumming just as fast as hers. Hien took it as a sign to wrap her tightly back in his arms once more, as they both gazed out at the moonlit shores of Yanxia, contentedly without a word. 

"I don't know if I deserve this, but I want to be happy. With you." She murmured sleepily, as her lids grew heavy from the fatigue of the day's events, and coupled with the slow burn of the alcohol, she faintly felt his hand stroking the length of her tresses and for the first time in a long while, she fell into a peaceful sleep.


	4. Aymeric I — Moonbeams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shining so bright like a star, they found themselves already in her orbit and bathe in her light. Three POVs, three sections each.
> 
> Hien, on the implications of what it means to lose your protector and to fail to protect the one you love.  
> Aymeric, in which he must choose between duty to his nation and duty to his heart.  
> Ardbert, where he finds his purpose and makes peace with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aymeric I — Moonbeams  
> But first, let me tell you a story.

Once upon a time in Ishgard, there was a young girl. 

Held captive by the trade of slaves and souls forced into labour, she was removed from her home from the faraway lands of the Doman Steppe. 

It was a way of life that she only knew for as long as she could remember, and she was passed on from one place to another until she ended up before those large and imposing gates, shivering relentlessly from the cold.

Back when the Holy See still accepted what little trade they could take from more worldly merchants, before they closed the Gates of Judgment against the rest of the realm. 

House Dzemael was in constant want for bodies in their quest to build and reinforce the fortifications that surrounded the Holy See, and thus not even women nor children were spared at their expense. 

Each day was hard, the next harder than the last. They would receive watery soup and stale bread as compensation, and while it was wholly lacking, it kept her fed. She slept in the barns with the rest of the animals, where it was warmer than what the streets could ever provide.

Amongst the slaves, was an Old Woman. She had long forgotten her name and told the girl to just simply call her as such. The Old Woman wrapped her horns with cloth and rags, saying that she mustn’t show them to the high lords and ladies that lived here. The girl did not understand at the time but simply obeyed. The wind was harsh against her skin and scales, and she was ill-suited for the cold climate. Binding her head kept the cold out, or so she thought.

The Old Woman also had a secret. She possessed a worn but beautiful deck of cards, said to be of Sharlayan make. She kept them in a small drawstring sack and only took them out when there were no prying eyes for the young girl to look at. Beautiful gold ink captured the images of a war goddess thrusting high in the heavens with a spear. A wrathful god, enveloped in lightning. A beautiful woman spinning silk illuminated by the moonlight.

One day, she met a boy her age. He was proper, smart, and well-spoken. He wore fine clothes and was always smelling like tea and sugary dark chestnuts. They talked about all sorts of things — he did most of the talking, really — about what their day was like, what he had learned from his tutors, where she came from and all the sights she saw in her travels... to what they aspired to be in the future.

The boy wanted to become part of the High Houses one day. To her, she simply did not know what it meant, but it sounded very important. He expressed that it is his dream, so that someday perhaps everyone could get along, instead of fighting when the threat of winter and the encroaching wyrm attacks were more pressing at hand.

The boy was simply known to her as Borel. She did not know what house he came from, but she had an inkling that he was often meeting her when he grew tired of whatever lesson plan was set for his day, or when he simply wanted to run away from home. He brought her acorn cookies and warm muffins, and despite her less-than-glamourous appearance, they were fast friends. 

Or so she thought.

One day, the slaves were gathered together in the Saint Valeroyant forum. A great bonfire was built in the plaza and chained to the large stake at its center, was the Old Woman.

They claimed her to be a heretic; a soul tempered by the wyverns. That her premonitions were an ability granted by the Horde; too unnatural and too powerful to be deemed as natural genius. The Inquisition had already made their decision, as judge, jury, and executioner.

The flames were lit. The fires danced as they burned, casting wicked shadows across the plaza walls. In her disbelief and utter shock, she watched as the Old Woman helplessly burned to her death. Somewhere among the crowd, she found Borel, who looked on unflinchingly, and simply repeated what the rest kept chanting.

“She’s a heretic. She must be put to death.”

She ran away, as fast she could muster, back to the stables. The Old Woman had the foresight to bequeath her with her beloved deck of cards, and with quivering fingers, she removed the worn fabric of the sleeve from inside her threadbare coat. 

“What am I supposed to do?” She asked the cards helplessly as if they would answer her back in place of the Old Woman.

_Draw the cards._

She removed the sleeve and grasped the first few cards.

An ethereal goddess spinning silken flax on the moon, casting her handicraft down to earth like frozen moonbeams.

_Love. At the crossroads. A choice must be made._

A great castle surrounded by rose briars, with ominous lightning in the background.

_Betrayal. Destruction. Death._

A shieldmaiden thrusting her perilous spear high into the heavens, splintering the skies in two.

_Judgment. An end of things. Absolution._

And then shakily, the last card— a hunter with a yew bow, wandering in the forests. Woodland animals prance along at his feet as if heralding his travels.

_A journey. A change about to come. Look into the future._

The men found her not long after, clutching the Old Woman’s possessions. She was arrested, her beloved cards confiscated, and watched on in pure horror as they ripped them into shreds before scattering what remained into the fires of their torches. 

She was next.

Brought to kneel before the smouldering ruins of what remained of the pyre in the forum, they tore her coat and headcloth off. She hung her head low in shame; her heritage now known for all to see.

“Horns and scales and a tail… a wyrm…”

“Didn’t her merchant say she was from Dravania?”

“Isn’t this proof…?”

“Heretic.”

Someone finally uttered the word. And she looked up; frantic eyes searching for a saviour.

But there was no salvation. Even as her friend stood before her, appalled by the sight of her, said nothing as his face turned white.

If they thought of her as a monster, then there was little chance to convince them otherwise. She screamed, hissed, scratched and bit her captors, but heavy blows came soon after as soon as she resisted. She mustered her strength to fight back once more, and more blows came. They burned her wrists, and the searing pain caused her shrieks to fill the entire expanse of the Foundation.

She passed out due to the pain and torture.

She was dimly aware of the sound of heavy gates opening. And that piercing Coerthan chill came, that would sap a grown man’s strength in a matter of minutes. The sharp, piercing cold stung her tears-laced eyes, and then she was thrown out into the cold, left to die by the roads. 

By some saving grace they did not kill her outright, thinking not to soil their hands further, and would rather have the elements take her instead. She saw this as a blessing in disguise, her freedom finally won, and she gathered herself up and began to walk down the treacherous road. To wherever it may take her. Even if it meant just another moment of profound clarity in her shaken heart, before she faced her inevitable death out in the snow.

There was so much snow. 

At long last, she fell against a bank and closed her eyes. The numbing cold nursed her burned wrists, now turning a blackened red. She thought about how blissful it felt and allowed what remaining warmth in her body to gently flee.

…

…

…

Ursandel Peuclagne, a humble servant of Lord Dartancours of Haukke Manor, was making a trip on behalf of his lord to deliver news to the lord’s distant Ishgardian kin. Lady Dartancours had given birth to a child, and the family wanted to share the great news to the Lord’s cousins. As he was on his way from Camp Dragonhead to Whitebrim Front, he noticed a dark bundle huddled by the side of the road, lay wayward from the path.

“...Oh dear.” He whispered to himself as he gently scooped the freshly fallen snow off the small body of a child. Nervous eyes flickered about, but his conscience won out, and he picked her up gently off the frozen ground. A small puff of breath escaped her lips; a sign that she was still alive.

He silently glanced at the injuries she suffered, before wrapping her tightly under his mantle and shielded her from the yet-again falling snow.


End file.
